


A Horde Of His Own

by StarsOverTheEast (orphan_account)



Series: Dragon Dad Melkor [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dragon Dad Melkor, Gen, not so dark - dark lords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 13:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/StarsOverTheEast
Summary: In Angband a young Smaug reflects on horde building and attempts to win a worthy tribute for Melkor.





	A Horde Of His Own

Smaug was feeling … small.

Not physically, no. He was well aware of his status as runt of the litter and actually quite satisfied with it as well. What other dragon could boast of a spot on Lord Mairon’s desk and the satisfaction of special treatment from the maia? Indeed his size and clever abilities had earned him favour with Melkor, father, as well. He’d even seen the inside of said vala’s private chambers thanks to some careful hiding in his amour. (Alas, he had been quickly spotted and sat outside with only a chuckle as gained.)

No, this feeling small had more to do with the size of his hoard. 

Smaug had seen the hordes of others. Scattered about the fortress in glittering heaps of gold and jewels and treasure stolen from elves. Every nook and corner seemed to hold such a pile of riches, ranging in size from a small bed to a floor to ceiling mound. Of course the largest hordes rested far underground, in the pits of the largest dragons but the most magnificent treasures?

They were stored in the grand hallway and in the throne room of Melkor, as tribute to their father. 

Smaug’s own horde in comparison felt rather … tiny.

A few jewels resting in a large, golden cup. A gift, or rather seat, from Mairon given to him when he had hatched in the forge. A treasure in itself as it had once been the cup of Melkor before Mairon had fashioned him a greater. 

Still a pile of gems in a discarded cup was no real horde despite the affection given him by the Lords of Angband he had yet to pay a proper tribute. 

What was a dragon to do?

-

“Just watch me.”

One of his distant brood, Fraener had already managed quite a horde for himself at a young age. A quite comfortable pile of gold coins and several elf trinkets that Smaug had found himself gazing at more than once. 

He had come to the small drake for advice on obtaining his own riches but this? Wasn’t exactly what he had expected. 

Smaug watched as Fraener crept around the corner, wings folded skillfully across his back and belly low to the ground. His target?A group of orcs, fresh from patrol and going through their spoils. 

“Think this came off one of them Doriath elves,” grunted one, holding up a circlet. 

“Really?” answered a second. “Well I got something off one of them princes’ lots.”

Creeping ever closer Fraener sneaked behind the nearest orc, skillfully stretching out his neck to strike. 

“From that red haired one what hung out on the wall so long?”

“You dummy, ain’t no one as been near him and lived. He’ll burn you to the ground with just his eyes. Heard it took weeks for sir necromancer to bring him back to life from the pile of ash.”

With one swift strike Fraener snatched the circlet out of the orc’s hands, quickly scrambling back towards Smaug.

“Why you little filth!” the orc screamed, jumping to his feet and drawing his weapon. Immediately the other orcs were upon him.

“Are you mad? You can’t kill one of the Lord’s dragons! He’ll have your head!”

Sliding up to Smaug, Fraener proudly placed his new found treasure at his claws.

“See?” he said proudly. “They fear to touch us.”

Smaug glanced down at the circlet and then at the still fuming orc. It certainly seemed a well enough plan. That Melkor would not allow his children to come to harm was true enough; even now Smaug could feel the pulse of his father’s power and the assurance that should one of the orcs be fool enough to raise their hand retribution would be swift. 

“Try it,” Fraener said, with a quick nod. “But with your own group.”

He turned and smiled a fang filled grin.

“This one is mine.”

-

The one on the left.

No!

The one on the right.

No, no, no.

The big one, right in the middle.

Smaug crouched low, wiggling his rear as he prepared to pounce. 

He had stolen out early from Mairon’s forge, eager to set his plan in motion. To say nothing of the fact that the maia seemed hard at work on a new weapon and less talkative and appreciative than Smaug would have liked. 

Creeping forward, his nails soft on the plush rug, Smaug moved to the feet of the nearest orc. Gathered around one of their brethren holding a large club, they seemed wholly concentrated upon said object and unaware of the other treasure scattered about. 

Smaug’s eyes rested upon his target. A large dagger, inlaid with fiery red jewels and almost as beautiful as one of Mairon’s work. Certainly Melkor had no need for such a weapon but it had clearly once belonged to an elf and any parting of the weapons that had done his father so much harm from their master’s hand would be a delight. 

A few more steps. 

“Stole it right off a troll, I did. Runt I think, but stole it I did!”

“Could bat down twelve elves with that!”

Fastening his teeth about the dagger’s hilt, Smaug back away, carefully dragging it through a scattering of gold coins. To his surprise the orcs hardly seemed to notice. Perhaps he could take a few coins?  
“Here, hold it!”

The orc holding the club suddenly stepped forward, his huge feet barely missing Smaug’s wing. 

Perhaps no on the coins.

With a last tug Smaug broke free of the circle, the dagger firmly clutched in his mouth with the orcs none the wiser. Delighted Smaug turned towards the direction of the throne room, eager to show his father his new prize. 

-

Several minutes, a rests, later Smaug stumbled up to the first of the throne’s steps. For all the glory of the dagger and the excitement it had bought the object had proven rather troubling to drag through Angband’s halls. Despite his love for his wings Smaug was now rather wishing he had been born with fore legs for such long hauls.

And the stairs …

Gazing up he noted Mairon on the top step, deep in conversation with Melkor. If the two noticed him they made no mention of it, rather speaking with hushed voices about … elves?

“ … elves … prince … escaped but … fool orcs can’t … I’ll … “

Leaving his dagger for a second Smaug climbed the first step, stretching his legs and letting out a call. 

“ … trouble yourself Mairon … the … I no longer feel … “

Smaug lowered his head, a pout appearing on his face. What could possibly be so important that they would fail to notice him? 

Letting out another call, and this time tugging at the bond between Melkor and himself, Smaug pulled himself up another step. 

“Smaug?”

Mairon turned, raising an eyebrow at he dragon.

“What -”

With a squeak Smaug fell back down the steps, happily racing about the dagger now that he had captured their attention. With a shrug at Melkor, Mairon stepped down to meet him. 

“What do you … ah!”

Reaching down Mairon scooped Smaug up with one hand and the dagger in another. 

“Have you bought your Lord a gift?”

Smaug nodded, squirming a bit as Mairon carried him to the throne and deposited him into Melkor’s lap. Taking a quick glance at the dagger Mairon placed it before Smaug, allowing the dragon to push it forward with his nose. 

“What is this?”

“An elf dagger,” Mairon said with a grin. “Fit for a prince.”

Stroking Smaug’s back with one finger and holding the dagger with his free hand Melkor let a smile of his own come to his face. 

“A worthy gift,” he said, much to Smaug’s delight. “I will treasure it well, Smaug.”

Beaming Smaug wagged his tail, joy threatening to consume him over his father’s praise. A dozen other orc groups that he had passed filled his mind and the urge to go after them for another prize was almost too much to contain. 

“Here,” Melkor said, laying the dagger before Smaug once again. “Place it at the foot of my throne. Add to it. Give me a horde.”

With a squeal very unfitting for a dragon, Smaug leap from Melkor’s lap and laid the dagger proudly at the vala’s foot. The first of many, the first of a great horde. He would collect each and every orc treasure he could, and in time perhaps fly out to snatch it from the elves themselves. 

Oh yes.

He would make his father proud. 

But first perhaps, a nap in Mairon’s forge.


End file.
